


Don't You Realise

by frankabagnale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, jfc I just really needed to write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankabagnale/pseuds/frankabagnale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a small, sad smile on the scribe’s face for a moment before he looks at Cas meaningfully. He peers at the hunter now, gives a small laugh as he shakes his head and utters the last ingredient to the spell. The powerful angel doesn't even finish the sentence before Castiel pushes the blade through his heart with a hollow scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Realise

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus Christ. I haven't written a fic in over 6 years. This is how much these two idiots make me feel. It's shit because it's been so long, but I just needed to get this out of my system.

*

It happens in all of fifteen seconds. Metatron gives him a pitiful look, looking like he doesn’t really care this is it, this is where he dies. It suddenly feels like they’re all going to die, in the middle of fucking nowhere, fighting an impossible war, and they got so close- _so close-_

“Heart of a nephilim,” Metatron murmurs, putting his hands up in defence. Dean looks up, almost too optimistically – this is it, this it the-

“Cupid’s bow,” There’s a small, sad smile on the scribe’s face for a moment before he looks at Cas meaningfully. He peers at the hunter now, gives a small laugh as he shakes his head and utters the last ingredient to the spell. The powerful angel doesn't even finish the sentence before Castiel pushes the blade through his heart with a hollow scream.

*

_“And the grace of an angel in love with a human.”_

*

There is white noise in his head. Cas had barked at him to get in the car. Drive. Just get away.

Complete blankness still encompasses his mind as they enter the bunker. His own breathing breaks through the fog as he forces himself to look at the angel stood on the far off corner of the kitchen they’ve just entered, leaning against the wall. He looks lost. Dejected. Like he's lost a war.

“Dean-“

“Is it true?” Breathe in. Breathe out. He can do this.

“Dean, don’t make me do this, I beg of-“

“Jesus fucking Christ, just answer me, Cas!” He’s suddenly breathless, crossing the room in three strides. He grabs the lapels of the angel’s coat – the wrong one, so fucking wrong, okay- “Is,” he starts to breathe heavily, his heart is pounding in his chest, ears ringing, voice shaking, but damn his fucking life if he doesn’t get this sentence out. “…It true?” It sounds more broken and angry than Dean wants it, but whatever.

Cas offers nothing in answer. He chooses to ignore Dean’s hands clutching at his coat, instead opting to look at the floor. The hunter steps closer, grabs the coat a bit more vehemently and tries again. “Cas. Please,” he’s resorting to begging now, but he needs to know, he needs, fuck he needs-

“Yes.”

He stumbles backwards, blinking back tears. But it’s not enough – he still- “Who- who is it?” Cas gives him a single, solemn look of pain. Dean knows the answer and yet he needs to hear it. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

And there it is. He bites back a sob, barely, just barely.

“But how,” there’s the sobbing now, bubbling up, all the anger, the pent up frustration, the sadness, so much fucking sadness coming back to the surface. “How, Cas, huh?” He can barely see through the tears now, “You keep leaving me. You-“ fuck this, fuck his life. This can’t be true. “You left me so many times, Cas,” his voice is gravelly, tired, so tired, “You just- you never cared- you-“

“Whatever I did,” of course the angel is perfectly composed, but there is a tremble to his voice he cannot hide. “I did it for you. And whenever I left you,” he’s whispering now, “I’ve hurt myself a thousand times more than you.”  
Dean barks a laugh at that. He can say that because he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there to see Dean in pieces. Broken. Sometimes he thinks he’ll never be able to put himself together again. But somehow, none of that matters right now. He can forget all of those times, all of that shit he's buried deep - if it means he doesn't have to go through it ever again.

“You can’t leave me anymore,” he tries to keep his face blank, but he knows he’s failing. Instead of grabbing the lapels again, he curls his hands around Cas’ neck. The angel levels his look with a distinct pain in his blue orbs. “Not if- Till death does us part and all that crap, okay?” He feels stupid for using that line, but there is no other way of conveying what he wants, what he desperately needs right now.

“Oh, Dean,” the angel sighs, leaning his forehead on Dean’s. The hunter is pretty sure he’ll stop breathing if he doesn’t hear the end of that sentence. “Don’t you realise,” his heart skips a beat as Cas whispers, full of sadness and sorrow, “I’ll follow you even after death.”

 


End file.
